Out of the corner of her good eye, Jascela saw a bright, crimson light flare at the edge of the cliff. A searing heat washed over the unscarred side of her face. Thinking to protect what remained of her beauty, the noblewoman turned away and ducked, wondering what harrowing magic the dwarf was trying to work now.
“If you want to live, come here!” Caelum yelled. “You too, K’kriq.”
The dwarf took Jaseela’s hand and pulled her toward the edge the of the outcropping. There, hovering in midair, was a hissing, crackling sphere of crimson fire. In the center of it was a man-sized opening, out of which poured a brillant golden light that hurt the noblewoman’s eyes as much as the red orb seared her skin.
“Inside!” Caelum yelled.
The dwarf pushed her off the outcropping, and before she had any idea of what she was doing, Jaseela found herself jumping into the blinding ball of light.
EIGHT
THE CITADEL
A sharp pop sounded a few feet away, near the granite outcropping that dominated the center of the gorge. A fleck of scarlet light appeared in midair and began to hiss and crackle. In the blink of an eye, it grew into an orb of crimson flame the size of a fist.
“Get down!” Rikus screamed.
Temporarily abandoning his pursuit of the fleeing Urikites, the mul dropped to his belly. Neeva landed at his side. All around them, gladiators cursed as they banged their elbows, knees, and even heads on rocky points and edges. The red ball grew into a roaring globe that blotted out the sun itself, its mottled surface crossed and recrossed by rivers of orange flame. A black seam appeared on the sphere’s underside and slowly lengthened. At any moment, Rikus expected the joint to burst and shower his warriors with liquid fire.
Instead, the rift opened slowly, revealing a fiery yellow interior so bright that it hurt the mul’s eyes to look at it. The silhouette of a woman’s form appeared in this crack, then dropped out of the ball and landed on the rocky ground in a crumpled heap. Wisps of smoke rose from her blackened tabard. Her face had turned as red as the sun, and her scorched hair hung over her shoulders in stiff and brittle locks.
“Jaseela!” Rikus gasped, rising to his feet.
As the mul rushed toward the woman’s scorched form, K’kriq dropped out of the sphere. The thri-kreen landed next to the noblewoman and used his body to shield her from the heat of the orb. Caelum came next, then the globe closed up and began to shrink. By the time Rikus reached the three warriors, the ball was gone.
The trio stank of singed hair and burned cloth. The heat had darkened even K’kriq’s tough carapace and raised small white blisters where Jaseela’s skin was exposed. Only Caelum had emerged unharmed, though his lips were swollen and cracked.
As soon as she saw Rikus, Jaseela’s tongue appeared from between her lips as she tried to say something. He kneeled at her side and placed his ear to her lips. Her words were so faint that, had he not been holding the Scourge of Rkard, the mul would not have heard them.
“Why didn’t you warn me about the shadow?” she gasped.
The mul glanced around the gorge. He and his gladiators had just followed the Urikites through the gap in the shimmering curtain, so he had not yet had time to inspect the area. Still, he realized, this was where Jaseela’s company should have made its stand. Instead of a battlefield, he saw a barren expanse of rocks. There was not even a single body to suggest that the noblewoman’s company had fought here.
“What shadow?” Rikus demanded. “Where’s your company?”
When Jaseela could not find the strength to answer, Caelum did it for her. “Umbra destroyed all of them,” said the dwarf. “I tried to warn her.”
Rikus laid the noblewoman’s head down, then summoned a pair of gladiators. “Take her to the oasis. She needs water and shade.” The mul looked to Caelum and K’kriq next. “You two go with her. You need rest too.”
K’kriq crossed his antennae. “Hunt not over!”
At the same time, Caelum frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“Avenge Jaseela,” Rikus said, waving his warriors after the Urikites. “Finish the hunt.”
“Didn’t you hear me?’ Caelum objected, following along. “You can’t go after the Urikites. Umbra is with them!”
“And he’s hurt,” Rikus said. “If I’m ever going to kill him, it’ll be today.”
“But he breached the sun’s fence!” Caelum exclaimed. When Rikus paid him no mind, he added, “If more of our warriors die, it will be on your head!”
“You’re wasting your words,” Neeva said. “Go on to the oasis and find out how the templars and dwarves are faring.”
Caelum fell silent and stared at Rikus in exasperation. At last the dwarf turned his red eyes on Neeva. “If you’re with him in this foolishness, then so am I.”
A short distance from the gorge, Maetan of Urik stood before an ancient citadel, awaiting the return of his defeated legion. The fortress’s builders had chiseled the structure from living rock, shaping it like a great, top-heavy argosy that sprang from the hill’s limestone flanks. Four stone wheels, each twice the height of the half-giant, were carved into its foundation and decorated with concentric rings of stone flowers.
Above these unturning wheels, a square platform supported a massive edifice of tall columns and balconies with gaping, dark doors behind them. Lifelike statues of male and female humans, all armed with fanciful weapons like double-edged scythes or four-bladed battle-axes, stood scattered over these balconies.
At the top of the citadel was a deck with a single balcony that overlooked the front of the temple. On the prow of this loge stood the huge statue of a handsome man with a great mane of hair and a tightly curled beard. Unlike the figures below, he carried no weapons, and a pair of large leathery wings sprouted from his back.
“Is this edifice so interesting?” asked Umbra, gliding across the rocky canyon floor to join his master.
Maetan looked away from the citadel. Behind the shadow giant, the first wave of his defeated legion was just rounding the sharp bend that hid the rest of the gorge from view.
Looking back to Umbra, Maetan observed, “You failed.” The mindbender made no comment on the dark vapor oozing from the shadow giant’s wounds. He had been watching the battle through his servant’s eyes and knew how he had come by them.
“What did you expect?” Umbra asked. “Your men are cowards.”
“When they are led by a fool,” the mindbender retorted.
“You call the Tyrian mul a fool, yet his warriors would rather die than retreat,” observed Umbra.
Maetan bit back a caustic reply, for he knew how little time he had to waste arguing with Umbra. The Tyrians were following his legion up the canyon, and it would be only a minute or so before they were standing where he was now. Instead, the mindbender pointed at the ancient citadel, then said, “Perhaps my soldiers will prove braver inside a fortress.”
The corners of Umbra’s blue mouth turned down. “They will be trapped,” he said. “At the most, they will last seven days before running out of food and water.”
“That will be long enough. I need only ten days to return to my family’s estate,” Maetan said.
“And what will you do there? Explain to your family how you sullied its precious honor?” asked Umbra.
“No,” Maetan answered. “I will redeem it. He reached down and picked up the shoulder satchel that he had prepared for himself, then slipped his hand inside and patted the cover of the book Book of the Kemalok Kings. “Stay with the cowards until they die,” he said. “Perhaps your presence will convince the dwarves that what they seek is inside the citadel.”